I Think. Therefore I Am Whatever I Am.

I wrote this yesterday. But it got uploaded only after struggling the whole night with blogger and internet connection. So if you feel that the goddess has just rediscovered the joys of writing and can't stop, go ahead. Think it. You are not too far from the truth.

Or better still, don't think. Don't think too much. Apparently it's not good for health or sanity. I am often admonished that I think too much. I don’t see how that is so bad though, it keeps my mental muscles supple and sprightly. I think so much because of a bad habit of too much reading and an overactive imagination. I admit, it is a bit extreme to watch Final Destination II and then freak out on ‘Highway to Hell’ when it suddenly starts playing in my car, on a CD which someone else popped in when I wasn’t looking. Or reading a sleazy Sheldon novel about MPD, and then start imagining what it would be like if the goddess had multiple avatars.

Ok, it’s a lazy Sunday morning, I have just devoured a yummy pure bong breakfast of ‘luchi aloobhaja’ and chilled black grape juice (ok this part is not so bong), and have sat down with the laptop. (Such a bong Carrie, no?) Mum is lounging in front of the TV and scouting for grooms for the goddess. I know! Grooms???? Granted, she is doing it for the heck of it, the goddess has already found her god, and is very much keen on producing little gods and goddesses to keep the goddess tradition alive. But it still doesn’t make me stop thinking. About different lifestyle scenarios with the different samples she picks up. One can actually cook and doesn’t need the girl to do it, just focus on her career! Can I help but imagine what a life that would be? Sure he won’t get a convent-educated, fair, beautiful blah blah…but he would get a goddess not interested in cooking at all and in lifelong awe of the man’s skills! One wants an organized bride, who will take over while making the move abroad. I don’t get the connection, but it’s perfectly cool with me!

Other thinking scenes? How I can maim the woman who interviewed me yesterday. For life. She made me miserable about looking for opportunities. Put her in a darkroom and fill it with bees (courtesy The Crush). How I can think up weird flavors of icecream, because I had something called Ferrero Rocher flavor last night - some of the first ones would be gud, kheer etc. (courtesy Enid Blyton – yeah I used to read her as a kid). How I can replace Hermione in the next Harry Potter movie. Maybe even become Ginny so I can have an affair with Harry himself! Or better still, make a movie myself, with the most complex plot ever.

My favorite one. How I can eradicate Playstation and all similar contraptions from the face of the Earth. My god that’s some deep thinking.

Uski Safedi Meri Safedi

It’s the banker’s curse that she was born with insane urges to write and an inborn talent of thinking that it helps her destress. It feels like coming home, coming back to blogspot. The goddess is at the brink of that stage in life where 24 hours become tight to pack in all that one wants, needs, and has to do. And the goddess stands corrected. Banking and writing do not go together.

Coming back to the topic at hand. Part of tagline of popular ad. Worked wonders. This line got stuck in the psyches of everyone who watches TV. But for me it’s the one feeling I see in everyone without fail. Sometimes subtle, muted, but always there. Some everyday examples:

‘So you think she’s prettier than I am?’

‘I need a bigger car man.’

‘That wire over there…what do you think that is? It’s not bothering you? Oho…obviously, your house is rented no? Bothers me because this house is my own.’

‘That guy got sent to the UK after a mere four months.’

‘My cash-in-hand is a bit less, but hey, I got too many other perks, customary laptop, Blackberry, yearly trips to the US, and I can work from home, too!’

And something I said myself. ‘She does NOT have a better blog!’

And a classic one. Married friend to bachelor, ‘Married life rocks!’

Now, I have nothing against the feeling. I get too much of it myself anyway. It’s quite a motivator. But what is it called? Jealousy? Competition? One-upmanship? I like to think of it as a way to tell myself that those levels, are achievable. Just because someone has demonstrated it, by getting there himself. But I don’t like the fact that it is so outer-directed. It’s like being dependent on an outside force to bring out a better you. I’m not preaching, but it makes me feel helpless to depend on something out of me to show me which stars can be reached. Earning hefty dollar salaries before I turn 24. Snagging a successful husband, having beautiful kids, and managing my life like supermodel-cum-supermom. Cooking up a mean prawn curry with steamed rice, and baking the best cookies in the world, at the same time rattling off facts and figures in morning meetings with my team, wearing Bipasha suits like in Corporate. Writing such a sexy piece on my blog that it gets picked up by some really popular site and takes it unimaginable heights, so much so that I get offers from publishers. Having effortlessly sleek, manageable hair, which stays put no matter which style I whip up.

And everytime someone will get to even a little of all this, I will feel, ‘Uski Safedi Meri Safedi se Zyada Kaise?’

And everytime I feel it, there will be some advertiser making big bucks out of a kick-ass campaign, which feeds on the most deep-rooted feeling in a human. I still can’t name it jealousy. Till den, uski safedi.